


You are my reflection (Show me the sun)

by TheSoggySchuyler4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Child Mack, Child Yoyo, F/M, Other characters briefly show up, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26106535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoggySchuyler4/pseuds/TheSoggySchuyler4
Summary: At seven-years-old, Mack and Yoyo meet their soulmate. The only catch? They can only communicate via the mirror in their bedrooms.
Relationships: Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Yo Yo Rodriguez
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: Marvel Fans 4 BLM 2020





	You are my reflection (Show me the sun)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giorgiaink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giorgiaink/gifts).



Mack first saw the Girl when he was seven years old. The details were a little vague, but he remembered cutting his hand and smearing blood on the mirror and yelling because suddenly two dark brown eyes were staring back at him. Mom had fussed over his hand, but when he told her about the girl (who had promptly vanished), she had merely chuckled.

“What a wonderful imagination you’ve got, Alfie.”

Mack scowled. He hated being called Alfie.

Over the next month, Mack learnt several things about the Girl. First being that she actually was one. He’d been too startled the first time to think anything other than ‘not my eyes’, so when she appeared again, he tried extra hard to memorise her details, from her long brown hair, to her pierced ears. They looked like little stars winking at him when she moved. She looked about his age, too, though that was harder to confirm. They’d tried to communicate via pieces of paper, but it had ultimately failed because of the language barrier.

That was the other thing Mack knew about the girl. She was _not_ American. At least, he didn’t think so. The first thing he’d written to her had been ‘Hi, my name is Mack’, and he hadn’t considered the effects of the mirror on the writing, so her confusion was definitely understandable. But when he’d stayed up for hours, carefully writing out the message in a mirror Image for her, and she’d still looked blank, he began to theorise other reasons. A different language made the most sense.

It was nearly a full year before the Girl (He had begun to call her Yo-yo in his head, because she never stopped moving) tried to write back to him, and Mack wasn’t sure why it had taken so long, but he was pleased anyway. At least, he was, until she held up the paper and Mack saw the Spanish. He knew it was Spanish because every kid knew ‘Hola’. He just didn’t know what the rest meant.

Mack didn’t try to write any more messages to Yo-yo after that. Instead, he begged his mom to let him take Spanish lessons and focused his attention on finding other ways of communicating. They gestured a lot, or rather, Yo-yo did. Her hands did this funny flapping motion sometimes, especially when she was pacing, and she constantly gestured to emphasise whatever point she was making, even if he couldn’t actually hear her.

Thumbs up or down was a pretty universal gesture, Mack found, as was nodding or shaking his head, so they could ask each other basic questions by pointing at things in their rooms. That was how Mack discovered that Yo-yo loved to paint and draw, and that she lived in Columbia, not Spain. The photocopy of his Atlas book’s map was blu-tacked proudly above his bed, a smiley face sticker over Potosí, which was where Yo-yo was from.

On one of their meetings, Yo-yo appeared wearing a plastic crown and waving a birthday present at him (at least, he was pretty sure), which was how Mack learnt that Yo-yo was older than him by just under a month. She held up nine fingers too, so unless nine meant something different in Columbia, Mack was fairly certain of her age.

The worst meeting came when Mack was almost eleven. Yo-yo sat in front of the mirror, tears streaming down her face, uncharacteristically still. Mack wanted nothing more than to hug her, and he had never hated the distance between them more than in that moment. He had no idea why she was crying, but he knew he would want a hug if he was sad. Instead, he sat in solidarity, hand pressed against the mirror so hard it smudged, willing the glass to give way and allow him to fall through. Just for a minute. Just so he could make it better.

She was gone for a long time after that. Mack felt her absence like a hole in his heart. He had come to consider her one of his best friends, and he missed her badly. There was so much he wanted to show her. Instead, he tucked all the important things into a carboard box under his bed and waited. She would come back eventually. She had to.

The mirror continued to remain blank.

When Mack was thirteen, he met a pretty girl named Nicole, and kissed her on the lips. It was a little sloppy, and kind of gross, but Mack figured he’d probably get better at it over time. He liked Nicole kind of a lot, and she seemed to like him too, but they both agreed they were a little too young to date. They went to the cinema a couple of times, and Mack saved all the tickets just in case, but they didn’t really do anything more than that.

When Mack was getting ready for bed, he found the tickets in his jean pockets and hesitated, before putting them in his bedside drawer. Yo-yo probably wouldn’t get it, anyway. To her, they would just look like movie tickets. He didn’t know how you were supposed to explain a person via gestures. It felt impossible.

Life went on, and also kind of didn’t. He still caught himself staring at the mirror every so often, but then he could go months without thinking about Yo-yo at all. He felt guilty when he did remember, but that didn’t change the fact that he forgot. It was just, it had been nearly two years now. If Yo-yo was coming back, wouldn’t she have done so already?

It felt like it was over, and Mack felt a tiny flicker of sadness, quietly mourning the friendship he had lost, but then that was it. And then he looked up from his homework, and there she was.

Yo-yo had changed. She had grown taller, prettier than before (or maybe he just hadn’t realised it then?), and Mack reddened at his own realisation that she had _grown_ too. He wanted to avert his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. She was _here_.

Yo-yo looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her. She blinked a couple of times before smiling wetly and rushing closer to the mirror, eyes darting all over him. Mack tried not to mind -He knew he had grown too, according to Nicole- but he was glad she couldn’t hear how his voice cracked at random times or note the worst of his acne from that distance.

“I wish you could tell me where you were.” Mack murmured softly. Yo-yo tilted her head to one side, confused. He knew it was probably strange to her. He had never tried to actually talk to her. There had never seemed much point.

“I wish you could hear what I’m saying to you.”

He knew she couldn’t. That was what made it so hard.

Mack had somehow expected it to be awkward now. They were both blossoming teenagers (And how he wished his mom would stop saying that) and they had lives that were so far removed from each other’s, but somehow it worked.

Yo-yo still loved to paint, and she showed him all of her favourite pictures. Mack loved them all, because they were so _her_ , so vibrant and alive and full of movement. In return, he showed her model cars that he had built, pointing out all of the coolest accessories on them. It wasn’t the same, he knew, but Yo-yo seemed to love them anyway, so he didn’t stop.

His Spanish had come a long way since the last time they had seen each other, so he painstakingly wrote out questions on a whiteboard for her, and she did the same (Her English had improved too, so she used a mixture). Yo-yo giggled at his mistakes, wearing a goofy smile as she carefully corrected them on her own board. Mack usually hated when people corrected his work, but he didn’t mind when Yo-yo did it. He learnt her name, finally. Elena Rodriguez. It suited her perfectly (though he still preferred to call her Yo-yo)

He never asked where she had been. No matter how much he wanted to know, it felt wrong somehow. He didn’t want to think about those years they had missed. He just wanted to think about now; he wanted to think about the way she smiled, and how she got paint on her nose sometimes that he longed to wipe off for her. Sometimes, just sometimes, he caught himself wondering what it would be like to ki-

“Mack?” Mack jolted at the sound of his name and glanced over. He and Nicole had begun actually dating two years ago, when they were sixteen, but she still knew absolutely nothing about Yo-yo. He had no idea how he might even go about starting that conversation. How was he supposed to tell someone that he spent most of his time thinking about another girl, who appeared to him in his bedroom mirror?

“What’s up, Nic?”

They were lounging beside Nicole’s pool, her head resting on his shoulder. Occasionally, the wind would waft her hair into his face, and he would have to resist the urge to sneeze. Nicole sat up, eyes glinting mischievously.

“How come you haven’t invited me to your room yet?”

Mack blinked.

“Um, did you want me to?”

They hadn’t discussed this before, and to be honest, he’d barely thought about it. Mack like Nicole a lot, and probably loved her too, though he’d never said that out loud, but they were still only eighteen. He had always felt like they had plenty of time for that.

“Well…” Nicole tossed her hair, giving him an impatient look, “Duh. My parents might be prudes, but I’m not.”

“Oh,” Mack sat up to face her properly, carefully considering her suggestion, “My parents are out tomorrow evening? But I don’t have any uh, y’know, stuff.”

He waved a hand vaguely, hoping she understood his meaning. To Mack’s surprise, Nicole merely giggled.

“Don’t worry about that, silly. I’m covered. I’ll come over at seven?”

Mack blinked, nodding slowly. He wanted to be as enthusiastic as Nicole was, but something about this felt wrong, somehow. Like he was supposed to wait. He cleared his throat, banishing the thought. This was a good thing. He knew that.

He still covered the mirror up whilst Nicole was over. There were some things he had no intention of sharing with Elena.

* * *

Elena remembered her first meeting with Turtleman very clearly. She had been running full pelt up the stairs and forgotten to stop in time, crashing into her mirror instead. As she rubbed at her throbbing nose, she had become very aware of the little boy staring in shock at her on the other side of her mirror. She watched him curiously for a moment, amused at his surprised yell, and the way he stumbled back in shock. To be honest, she was freaking out a little herself, but it was funnier to watch the boy dissolve into panic, than to think about her own. After a few minutes, the boy’s mother arrived, and the mirror faded to show Elena’s own reflection instead.

Frowning in disappointment, she reached for her sketchbook and pencils, keen to draw the boy before his face faded from her memory.

Elena was thrilled when the boy appeared again, and again, and again. He tried to write things to her sometimes, but the letters were the wrong way around, and when they weren’t, she found that he had written in English. She knew a little, but not enough that she could fully understand, and definitely not enough to reply.

She longed to write something in Spanish to him, just to see if he would understand, but she only received a new sketchbook on her birthday and that was still nearly a year away. The paper was precious. She couldn’t waste it on writing messages that he wouldn’t be able to reply with.

There was a strange kind of comfort in telling Turtleman things. She knew he couldn’t hear her, but it was nice to get things off her chest anyway. Elena told him all sorts of things about her life, like how she wanted to help people when she grew up or that she had visited the museum last week.

When her birthday arrived, Elena saved the first page to write Turtleman a message. She practiced the backwards letters in the dust under her bed before tracing them out onto the page; ‘Hello Turtleman. My name is Elena. Today is my eighth birthday’. Turtleman’s face lit up like the sun when he saw that she had written, before fading again. Elena knew what that meant. He didn’t understand what it said.

Neither of them tried to write again. There didn’t seem to be much point when there was such a thick language barrier between them. Instead, they learnt to use a mixture of gestures and pointing. Elena was endlessly fascinated by Turtleman’s collection of model cars. They were so beautiful and shiny, and he had painted them by hand.

When she was eleven, her dad got mixed up with some bad people. She didn’t understand what was going on, but it meant she had to go away for a while. When her parents told her, she ran up to her room and cried for hours. At some point, Turtleman appeared, and he sat with her in solidarity. Elena desperately wished that he could be there with her. She had never heard his voice, but in that moment, Elena knew implicitly that he would have known what to say.

She had been with her uncle and Francisco for seven months when the man killed her uncle. From there, it was a mess of relatives who cared for her and her cousin, and she wanted to go home, but she couldn’t. She missed Turtleman like she might miss her arms. It was physically painful to go so long without his comforting presence.

When Elena was nearly fourteen, she kissed Francisco on the forehead and went in search of her papa. As far as she knew, he was still alive, maybe even living in their old home. When she got there, she found the house trashed and emptied of any valuables. The mirror, miraculously, remained intact, and she took it and left. Her parents had not been seen there for months, if not years. If they were still alive, it was nowhere near here.

Still, she had Turtleman back. She had half expected him to be gone when she hung the mirror up in her new room and studied it, but there he was, looking right back at her. He had filled out since she had last seen him and gained some handsome muscles too. Elena was not ashamed to say that she checked him out. He was just so pretty.

Elena was thrilled to discover that their language barrier was much smaller than before. Whilst she had continued to attempt to teach herself English, Turtleman had done exceptionally well at learning Spanish. For the first time, they could have proper written conversations. She went out and brought a whiteboard the next day. His real name was Alfonzo Mackenzie, or Mack, and it suited him, but so did Turtleman. She called him both.

They talked for hours, and she loved correcting his mistakes. His look of concentration when he was trying to remember some particular grammatical rule was positively adorable, and it made her smile just to think about it. Just to think about him, if she was being truthful.

“You’re happy again.” Francisco observed curiously, and Elena merely shrugged. She _was_ happy again. She had her Turtleman back.

Elena knew something was wrong the instant she looked at Mack’s face. She waited patiently for him to write what he needed to, knowing not to rush him, not to make it harder. Finally, he held up his board.

‘My girlfriend is pregnant and I don’t know what to do.’

Elena stared at the words, thinking. He had written it in English, and although they’d done that before, whenever he didn’t know a word, or just needed a break from the Spanish for a while, it took her a moment to switch her brain into gear. Slowly, she reached for her own board.

‘Yours?’

Mack blinked and nodded, reaching for something that he held out to her. It looked like a picture, though nothing like one she had seen before, in black and white. She got it eventually. That was a picture of the baby. Of _his_ baby. She smiled softly, before remembering how worried Mack seemed. Now was not the time to bother him with sentimentalities and congratulations. That could wait. Instead she wrote,

‘What does your girlfriend think?’

Elena knew about Nicole, if only in passing. He had mentioned her on multiple occasions, and she had known when they started officially going out. Elena knew that image she had in her head of this horrible, cruel girl was almost certainly not true, because Mack would never date someone like that, but she couldn’t help disliking the other woman, even if she wouldn’t admit to herself exactly why.

Mack lifted a shoulder, already beginning to write his reply.

‘Her parents won’t let her abort, but she doesn’t want to keep it either. I’m afraid I might lose my kid If I don’t act.’

Elena struggled to translate the words and she chewed her lip, mulling them over. She didn’t recognise ‘abort’, but she could guess at the meaning, at least.

‘So keep the baby yourself. You want it, right?”

Mack began franticly writing, and Elena leaned forwards, trying to see what he had put.

‘Of course I want it, but Nicole’s parents hate me. They’re white and they don’t exactly think I’m a suitable parent for their grandchild. Even if I asked, they might not let me.”

Elena couldn’t help the anger and rage that rushed through her.

‘It is your baby too. You should fight for your child. Don’t lose hope, Mack. Fight for your baby.’

Mack’s eyes glistened with tears and he nodded, beginning to smile and relax. Elena smiled too. She could only hope that what she said was enough, that Mack would be able to fix things.

* * *

Elena couldn’t blame Mack for being busy, honestly. She knew he was working hard to claim custody of his baby, but it still stung when they didn’t speak for weeks on end. It was part of why she hadn’t told him her own news. She didn’t want to be the reason he was distracted and couldn’t focus on his child. That was more important than anything she might want to tell him.

She glanced around her bedroom, now empty save for her bed and the mirror. The rest of their belongings had already left for America, but Elena hadn’t wanted Mack to find out about her moving just because the mirror was in a new place. He deserved to know from her, even though she had no idea how to tell him.

Mack appeared poised to write something to her, but his face instantly faltered, and Elena knew he had seen the state of her room. She winced and began to explain.

‘My grandmother passed away three months ago. She was the last surviving family member still in Colombia that could look after Francisco and I.’

Mack frowned, looking both apologetic and confused.

‘You could have told me. I’m so sorry, Elena. Is there anything I can do?’

Elena shook her head, hesitating.

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Mack, we’re coming to America. There’s nothing left for us here. We’re leaving Colombia on Friday.’

The look on Mack’s face was priceless.

* * *

Elena felt a flash of frustration as she stepped out into the airport terminal, lugging a heavy suitcase, and searching the crowd of people. After a long conversation with Mack, they had agreed that she would come to Illinois first, so they could finally meet. She would never tell him that she had already planned on doing so, in the vain hope that he would suggest it too. They had known each other for practically their whole lives. It made sense that they would want to meet in person after all this time. Still, she was surprised and a little hurt that he wasn’t actually here to pick her up.

“Elena Rodriguez?” Elena started and turned around. The young teen and middle-aged couple stood before her all looked vaguely familiar, though she was quite certain they had never met before.

“Yes?” She managed, raising an eyebrow curiously. At once, the young boy’s face lit up, and he turned to his parents, beaming.

“I told you it was her!” He boasted. The woman sighed slightly and held out her hand.

“Elena, I’m Lilla and this is John. We’re Alfie’s parents. He asked us to come and collect you, since he’s unable to do so himself.”

Elena felt a rush of fear, even as she politely took the offered hand and shook it.

“What has happened? Is everything alright?”

She was so caught up in her worry that she nearly missed the use of ‘Alfie’, but she made a mental note to ask him about it later. John chuckled.

“He’s fine. Frustrated to have to miss your arrival, but just a little preoccupied. Nicole went into early labour, and Alfie refused to miss the birth.”

Elena blinked. She studied Mack’s parents carefully to see if they were joking. She blinked again.

“The baby is not due for another three weeks. Mack hasn’t finished painting the nursery yet.”

She wasn’t sure why that was the first thing that came to mind, but it suddenly felt very important. They had spent several hours planning out the colour scheme (Pale green and blue to allow for either gender, since they didn’t know yet) and the general theme (jungle). Mack’s parents glanced at each other.

“The nursery?”

“Yes,” Elena squinted at them, a little confused. Hadn’t Mack told them about his plans? “He is going to repaint the spare bedroom so it can be for his child. We already picked out the paint, but I was going to help him with the actual painting this week.”

At this, Lilla smiled, and a twinkle grew in her eyes.

“We were going to suggest heading straight to the hospital, but Alfie says Nicole has a while to go. Perhaps you’d like to come back with us, and you can show us what you mean.”

Elena shrugged and nodded. She hadn’t really made any solid plans, other than to meet up with Mack, so this seemed to be as good as anything else. Perhaps, she thought, trailing after the rest of the Mackenzie family, she could paint the room for Mack as a surprise. He would be so relieved that the room was ready for the baby when they brought her home.

The Mackenzie’s had a lovely home, Elena decided. She had been there for all of five minutes, but there was an overwhelming sense of homeliness to the place, and Elena could imagine it must have been a wonderful place to grow up in. She was tempted to find Mack’s mirror, just to see if anything happened, but she focused on finding the spare bedroom first. Lilla led her up the stairs and gestured to one of the doors.

“We’ve been using that room as storage up until recently. It’s not exactly our spare bedroom, but I think it’s what you mean. Alfie has been in here a lot recently.”

Elena pushed the door open and smiled as she spotted the cans of paint in the corner. The room had obviously been recently cleared, and was now set up for painting, with only the baby furniture remaining. Everything had been carefully protected and moved into the centre of the room for easier access to the walls. Elena beamed.

“If it is alright with you, I would like to paint the nursery for when Mack returns.” She announced. Lilla and John agreed, smiling softly at her.

“We’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” Lilla told her, “And we’ll call you if there are any updates on Nicole and the baby.”

Elena nodded and turned back to the room. Now, where to start?

* * *

Elena shifted awkwardly behind Mack’s parents as they stood just outside the hospital room. She was suddenly rather anxious about what she would say. She had imagined meeting Mack for years, but somehow the scenario of meeting him in the hospital, right after the birth of his child, had never really factored in.

“You can go in now.” A nurse spoke up, smiling vaguely. Elena nearly bolted there and then. What was she thinking, bursting in on this personal, intimate moment? This should be the occasion of Mack’s parents meeting their grandchild, and Ruben meeting his niece or nephew. Elena had no place here. She jolted in surprise when Lilla placed a hand on her back and nudged her forwards.

“Go on dear. We all know you’re the one he really wants to see.”

Elena tried not to look confused and edged forwards into the rooming. She couldn’t help but smile at the precious sight in front of her. The tiny baby seemed to be even smaller in Mack’s broad arms, but he held her so gently that there was no doubt Mack would protect the tiny infant with his life.

“Hi.”

Mack’s head shot up, and he smiled so widely it looked as though it hurt.

“Yoyo!” His voice was hardly more than a whisper so as not to wake the baby, but the delight and warmth in his voice was unmissable. “I have a daughter!”

Elena beamed, forgetting her nerves, and coming closer. The little girl was adorable, and Elena’s heart felt so full she thought it might burst.

“She is so beautiful, Mack. What’s her name?”

“Hope.” Mack murmured reverently. “I didn’t lose hope because of you. I got full custody of Hope Mackenzie.”

“Mack! Come ‘ere you great beauty!” Mack was half asleep by the time his friends showed up. Hope was quietly resting in his arms, and Elena sat nearby. They had talked for nearly three hours, unable to get enough of the sound of each other’s voices, before finally settling into a comfortable silence. Mack couldn’t help thinking that Yoyo was even more beautiful in person, though he would never dare tell her that. He didn’t want to ruin what they had.

* * *

“Hunter! Shut up! You’ll wake the baby.” Bobbi Morse smiled apologetically over at Mack as the rest of the group tumbled in behind her and Hunter. Mack didn’t miss the curious looks they gave Elena, though none of them dared say anything. Elena’s eyes sparkled and she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Can I guess who they all are? I think I could manage it.”

Mack chuckled and nodded. Elena stood and made her way over to the group, holding a hand out to Bobbi.

“You would be Barbara Morse, yes?” As Bobbi nodded, looking confused, Elena smiled and swept on, “Lance Hunter. You owe Mack $20.”

Hunter began stammering pathetically about how he had never properly agreed to the terms of the bet, so it wasn’t fair, but Elena had already moved on. Mack sniggered.

“Daisy Johnson, or ah, Tremors, right? Mack told me all about the coffee incident.”

Daisy swore under her breath.

“I was like, twelve, Mack. You gotta let that go.”

“Only a certified lunatic would drink a cup of twelve shots of coffee and an entire bag of sugar, Daisy. No matter how old they are.” Mack teased, enjoying the show immensely.

Elena paused in front of Jemma and Fitz, frowning slightly. Noticing, Jemma looked hurt.

“Don’t you know who we are, too?”

Elena waved a hand.

“No I do, I’m just trying to work out which one is which. Mack told me all about Fitzsimmons, and how you are perfect for each other but cannot see it.” (Daisy burst out laughing, and struggled to rein it in under Jemma’s affronted glare) Finally, she snapped her fingers and pointed at Fitz, “You’re Turbo, which must make you Jemma.”

The pair grinned and nodded in unison, which only made Daisy laugh harder.

“This is Yoyo” Mack spoke up finally. There was a look of recognition from Bobbi and Hunter, who had known him the longest, and Daisy’s expression grew thoughtful. He had never explicitly told her about Elena, but she had definitely come up in conversation a few times.

“You’re his girl in the mirror, right?” Bobbi asked, leaning forwards. When Elena nodded, Bobbi looked thrilled, and Hunter sullenly counted out some money before handing it to her.

“Hunter didn’t believe you were real.” Bobbi explained, rolling her eyes. To Mack’s relief, Elena merely laughed, seemingly unfazed by his friends’ dynamic.

“Would you guys like to meet Hope?” Mack asked suddenly, noticing that his precious new daughter had fully woken up with all the chatter. His friends rushed over at once, clamouring for a chance to meet the tiny baby.

* * *

10 months later:

“Mama!”

Mack froze, halfway finished redressing Hope for the third time that afternoon. They were at Elena’s apartment, despite her being out at the moment. Both of them had become so accustomed to Mack and Hope coming over whenever they needed a break from Mack’s parents, or even if it was just quicker than going back to Mack’s house. Half of Hope’s onesies were at Elena’s, as well as several spare changes of clothes from Mack.

He squinted at Hope, glancing behind him to see if Nicole had somehow showed up. Instead, Elena stood there, keys still in hand, looking stunned. Hope wriggled in Mack’s grip and reached towards Elena.

“Mama!” She repeated.

“Uh,” Elena slowly edged forward, looking confused, “Is she talking to me or to you?”

Mack chuckled nervously.

“You, I guess? It’s funny. Nicole has been trying to weasel that out of her for months.”

Elena instantly let out a disdainful scoff before she could stop herself. Although Nicole had officially given full custody over to Mack, she would still drop by every so often to check up on them. It was like she would feel guilty for five minutes and want to remind herself how little she actually wanted to be a mother. Mack and Elena both hated it, especially since Hope seemed to particularly dislike Nicole and would whine and fuss horribly if left alone with her for more than a few seconds.

“No mystery there, Mack.” She muttered, giving him a pointed look.

They were silent for a moment, quietly watching as Hope returned to babbling cheerfully, only occasionally interspersing her baby talk with a mama or a papa. Elena began to look slightly awakward.

“We could probably tell her to stop if you- If that is, I just mean…” She trailed off, flushing slightly. She loved Hope like her own, but Elena would never dare try to force her way into a role Mack didn’t want her filling. Hope had a mother anyway, even if she was a really bad one. At once, Mack shook his head.

“I’m glad that she, uh, well,” Mack shrugged, struggling for the right way to phrase it, “You’ve been a better mom to Hope than Nicole will ever be, and she knows that too. I would be honoured if you let my daughter call you her mom.” His eyes suddenly widened, and he seemed to rush to remedy what he had said, “That’s if you want her to, of course. I would never ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, or-“

“Mack!” Elena interrupted, “I would love to be Hope’s mother.”

The air felt electric and Elena found herself moving close to Mack until she could feel his breath on her lips.

“Can i-?” Mack began hesitantly. Elena cut him off with a deep kiss. Behind them, Hope gurgled happily in her booster seat, entirely unaware of what was going on in front of her.

* * *

Seven years later:

“Mommy! Mateo stole my tiara!”

Elena glanced up from her coffee, smirking at the sight in front of her. Her three-year-old son had managed to pull on Hope’s beloved Disney tiara, along with a pair of Elena’s heels, and was wobbling into the kitchen, trying, and failing to outrun his big sister. As he reached the threshold, the little boy tripped and stumbled forwards, falling flat on his face and beginning to wail. Elena winced.

“Hope, be a good girl and fetch me the first aid kit, would you? It’s in the top drawer of my dresser.”

Hope scowled and ran off to find it as Elena struggled to console her son. Just as she was finishing lecturing him about wearing mommy’s heels and taking his sister’s things, Hope finally returned. She was walking very slowly and had a funny look on her face.

“Mommy,” Hope began, rubbing at her nose, “There’s a little girl in your mirror. Is she stuck?”

Elena blinked in surprise.

“Oh, your daddy is not going to be happy about this.” She muttered, beginning to laugh.


End file.
